The Death Star: A Twisted Sequel
by QUACK Inc
Summary: Darth Vader has plotted something evil, in this sequel to The Death Star: A Twisted Ending. He has drawn the Rebel heroes to him using his secret weapon. But will they fall for the bait? Or will they use their wits to twist this to their advantage?


"My Lord Vader? Please, why are you pacing like that? You haven't eaten in days."

"Lord Vader, sir, is something wrong? Something appears to be troubling you, O Most Noble Black One."

"Please, Lord Vader, stop pacing. You're wearing a rut in the new floors…"

Lord Vader in question does not respond to his puny officers. He is thinking, plotting. Plotting revenge on the Rebel scum that have obliterated his precious ice cream. (See _The Death Star: A Twisted Ending._ ) Not to mention that the Death Star it was stored in was _expensive!_

"Do you have any idea how much giant freezers cost these days?" he fumed, "This was a major financial loss! I cannot tell the Emperor. He would ground me, and it would be 'no more blowing up planets for you, my boy.'"

He drew a breath, pausing briefly to pour himself a drink from one of the buttons on his suit. "I must have REVENGE!"

The therapist, who was twitching nervously in his gray suit and looking terrified to be counseling Darth Vader, worked up the courage to speak. "Um, erm, If I may, sir-"

"SPEAK."

The therapist felt a glop of cold sweat slide down his back. "Um, sir, Your Lordship, Your Most Utmost Splendorpoofarificnous-"

"GET ON WITH IT."

The therapist got on with it before Darth Vader had a chance to Force-choke him.

"Well, revenge, is, um, generally not the answer, sir. Now, a more _successful_ approach would be to _find_ your son and _communicate_ with him, and you can work out your _differences_ -"

"WORK OUT OUR DIFFERENCES! NONSENSE! MY BOY NEEDS TO BE TAUGHT A LESSON, HE DOES! A GOOD, HARD SPANKING!"

"Well, yes," the therapist squeaked, "I can see that-maybe if you-it would be better to-" he sighed, giving up. "May I go now?"

Though Darth Vader wore a mask, he still managed to give the therapist a withering look. "Leave my sight."

The therapist bobbed his head in relief and bumbled out.

Darth Vader smiled. He knew just what to do.

"This is my ice cream freezing chamber," Darth Vader said to Han Solo, leading him into the room. Princess Leia, C-3PO, Lando Calrissian, and Chewbacca followed in his wake.

"Now, would you like a free sample of the new flavor I'm developing?"

Han grinned. "Oh, boy! I just love ice cream! C'mon, Leia!"

Leia shook her head. "I'm on a diet."

"Come, my lad." Vader ushered Han along, to a circular pit in middle of the room. "I made this one just for you. Here, have a look."

Han went over to the edge of the pit and looked down. His face fell. "I don't see any ice cr-"

Vader pushed him in. A white cloud of smoke filled the room.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Han yelled, before the carbonite overpowered his voice.

Luke Skywalker sensed it. Han and Leia were close. Very close. They were on that floating, cotton-candy-cloud city ahead.

"Boop beep beep beep boop?" asked R2-D2.

"No!" Luke exclaimed, exasperated. "We are _not_ stopping for ice cream now! Han and Leia are in danger!"

"Beep boop beep!"

"I don't _care_ if you have a craving!"

"Boop boop boop beep boop…"

"That was a long time ago. Anyway. We're here; get out."

He walked up to the huge, gleaming white doors, which slid open automatically. Huh. Suddenly, the fleeting idea crossed his mind that perhaps he should have some sort of rescue plan. Then he shook his head. _Nah, I'll just walk in with my blaster. Whatever._

Suddenly, he felt it too. An undeniable, insatiable craving for ice cream. His tongue longed for the cool, sweet smoothness of his favorite flavor, vanilla caramel.

He shook his head again, starting down the hallway. He was probably imagining things.

 _Aaah, my son is here,_ thought Darth Vader. _It is payback time._

His mind flashed to what the therapist had said. Should he try for a peaceful negotiation, maybe?

 _Nah, I'll just walk in with my lightsaber. Whatever._

He sobered up for a minute. _Padme always thought I looked hot with a lightsaber._

Luke felt the black-caped figure's presence before he saw him. _Darth Vader. The man who killed my father._

He ignited his lightsaber, the blue blade piercing the darkness.

Darth Vader did the same, flaring up his fiery red one.

And the fight began.

 _Revenge,_ Luke thought, _He killed my father._

 _Revenge,_ thought Darth Vader, _He destroyed my ice cream. He will PAY!_

His blade slashed through Luke's wrist, severing his hand. It went skittering away into the reactor shaft and was never seen again.

 _Ha ha! At last! REVENGE!_

"Ho ho ho," Vader chortled, "My boy, how does it feel to lose a limb? You know, _I've_ lost _five_ of them before! Not all real ones, of course."

" _AAAAAAAAAAUUUGGHHH! Ow!"_ Luke howled, clutching the stump where his hand had been, "Come on, man, why'd you do that?! First you kill my dad and now you cut my hand off! What's the matter with you?! Get counselling or something, don't take it out on me!"

"Aaah…" Vader replied, "Don't get so mad. I _so_ did not kill your father. I AM your father."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't care. Point is, what do you want?"

Then, in that instant, he realized what was on Darth Vader's mind. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Your officers never told you about the ice cream...did they?"

"They told me enough," Vader growled, "They told me you ATE IT!"

"Um, no," Luke protested, "I blew it up. I had no idea it was on the Death Star, honestly."

"No, no!" Vader clutched at his helmet in despair. "That's not true! That's impossible!"

"Look, man, you know it's true. Look at me. Do I look like I've gained four hundred pounds?"

" _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

"Okay, okay, calm down!" Luke pleaded. "I've got an idea, okay?" He held out a coupon for the Two Cones For the Price of One Special at Dexter's Diner. "Join me, and together we can go get ice cream as father and son."

Darth Vader thought for a minute, startled. "Hm. That's actually not a bad idea. All right, I'm inclined to call a truce-only temporarily, mind you. Shake on it?" He extended his arm. Luke glared at him and held out his bloody stump in return.

"Ah, right." Vader said. "Sorry about that. Don't worry, my boy. I'll get you a new one. The newest model, although they don't make mechanical hands like they used to…"

"Daaaad, can we go now? Please"

And off they went.


End file.
